


No More Dreaming

by InquisitionHeart



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 13:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquisitionHeart/pseuds/InquisitionHeart
Summary: In the years following Trespasser and the events revealing Solas' true identity. Personal plotline for my Lavellan in which she had a son shortly after the main plot events and left him with her clan.The disappearance of the former Inquisitor does not go unnoticed by Solas' elven spies in Ferelden and Orlais. Her clan all but vanishes in the Free Marches only for the Inquisitor to suddenly reappear quietly in Tevinter. Seemingly to visit the new magister Pavus. Only...It is here she reunites with Leliana and Dorian. With the support of the spymaster and against Dorians hesitancy, that she asks for a heartbreaking spell to be cast. In order to protect her young son, and hide his existence even from her own dreams and thoughts, she has Dorian erase all traces of his existence from her mind. Confident that her Keeper will raise him quietly as another young orphaned Dalish boy in the clan. Well hidden and unremarkable, untouchable by the enemies of his mother, as well as the discovery by his unknowing missing father.





	No More Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> In my canon storyline Cassandra is on the sunburst throne and no Vivienne or Sera encountered in this playthrough. Iron bull betrayed them and the Inquisition has been disbanded. A hardened Leliana remains at hand to assist in what is to come. Cole briefly accompanies the Inquisitor to the free marches before returning to Maven in Orlais (spirit cole with unknowing minstrel) Dorian uses Crystal to keep in contact and check on the Inquisitor in the coming months.

"Are you... Absolutely sure of this?" Dorian’s mustache twisted down with his lips, his voice without any of its usual bite. Hands listless in his lap as he considered his friend sitting before him. Inquisitor Lavellan. Her normally lovely face was marred with tired sadness. Her black hair was trimmed sloppily and unkempt around her heart shaped face and her eyes ringed with darkened sleepless skin. She couldn't meet his eyes.  
"You know this is what must be done to avoid discovery. It is too dangerous otherwise-- If Solas truly watches the Inquisitor in her dreams as we suspect, the boy could be discovered. " Leliana uncrossed her arms and stood from her position against the wall. She looked to Sihra with a frown of her own, sighing despite her words. Sihra’s shoulders slumped, her voice worn and quiet as she finally lifted her face,  
"I am sure of this Dorian... I cannot risk --" She dug her fingers into her thighs, fighting how her voice was breaking and how the tears welled in her eyes. She struggled to even breathe but she knew how closely her enemies circled.  
"I will keep him safe." Dorian searched her face for any hesitancy, his brows furrowing as he finally met her glistening eyes. With a long breath he raised his hands slowly,  
"As you wish my friend." Carefully blue swirling magic began to gather in his fingers, spreading out toward his palms. Delicate and light, it lacked the static or even the sound of other magics. He brought his hands up to her cheeks with a grimace, thinking himself of the little boy he had met last spring. So small and new, the child had already begun to resemble his mother and even more so-- Dorian hated to think of it-- his father. The spell was already weaving across Sihra’s skull, and her friends could only watch the tears slowly escape, trailing down her cheeks as her eyes grew dull and dark.  
"Sa'ren..." A last breath of air, the last time she would know her child’s name. Her eyes closed as the spell began to fade. Dorian leaned back slowly, wiping her cheeks carefully with his thumbs. His voice low,  
"Inquisitor? Are you alright?" Blinking, Sihra’s face scrunched and the light began to return, her mind jumbled and throbbing.  
"I-- I don’t seem to remember what we were talking about." Her voice even was slow, uncomfortable. She struggled to think but only a blank dull pain resounded in her thoughts.  
"Do you remember the boy?" Leliana stepped closer, the edge in her eyes softened, her lips thin as she regarded the Inquisitor.  
"Boy? What boy?"  
"Oh, none at all. Just a servant." Dorian stood, his smile tight. He held out a hand to help Sirha to stand. Over his shoulder he cast a stinging glance at Leliana. She merely turned towards the door,  
"We should be going. There is much to be done." Sihra took Dorian’s assistance and carefully rose to her feet. Unsteady and her mind still swimming she rubbed at her forehead.  
"Yes of course." Dorian met Leliana’s gaze, and for a moment together they shared the guilt, the regret of this event. A moment of quiet mourning for their Inquisitor and most of all, for her son.  
"I will... Escort you out." Dorian’s hand lingered on Sirha’s shoulder blade, steadying her and silently comforting her, but more so himself, for what he had done, and for what had been lost. The door swung closed heavy behind them.

(Somewhere in the fade, years later)

Solas asleep dreaming like every night. Solace in the silent moments and the ancient memories of the landscape. Always watching, feeling, for any trace of her there… Asleep with him, as close as he allows. 

Lavellan 

Not this night. This night he sinks into sleep, bones weary, mind exhausted from these heavy tasks. The thoughts like lead, where is she? Pushing at the edges of consciousness and bleeding into a blissful forgetfulness, sleep came easy at last. 

Here, in the fade, it was easier to forget. Even alert as he was, it was easier to walk into the memories of those who tread there before him. It was easier still to sit and watch the construction of ancient cities and buildings long since lost to the ages. It had been years since he had found her in his dreams, been able to slide into her consciousness, ascertain the position of the anchor through her body. He pushed even that– especially that– from his mind. Exploring as he might’ve, for once, during a simpler time. 

This night, the fade appeared to have its own makings for his dreams. 

The laughter of a child pulled his attention for a moment. Echoes of the past were more often heard in sound than able to be seen, ghostly as they were. At first, while curious, the imprint of a child on the past interested Solas little. Yet, the further he walked the clearer it became. Stark and true, as if, like that time only years ago, someone stood speaking beside him, aware and present, alive and dreaming. 

“Pretty butterfly–!” Louder. Laughter. He moved nearer still. Pushing through into a clearing to find a shimmering golden spirit before a small black haired child. Back turned, sitting upon the ground, clapping delightedly at the light moving through the spirit’s body, appeasing the child and indulging him at once. The spirit, sensing an intruder in Solas, dissipated at once. Unwilling, it seemed, to speak so easily to a stranger. The child, confused and suddenly alone, looked about, turning his head finally to see Solas standing there observing in shock. Black hair, chubby cheeked, small pointed ears, eyes blue as sapphires – her eyes.

In a moment, heart aching, blinking to push the burning image of the woman, his woman– no, not his– was. What was. 

The woman he loved. 

He quickly pushed the image from his mind. Dizzy, concentration rippling, watching the child. He spoke, voice small and lisping,

“You swcared it–” the boy was of barely four years, Solas guessed. So young and yet able to freely walk in the fade in his dreams? It couldn’t be. An illusion.  
Impossible. But the boy was looking at him. Speaking to him 

“Aneth ara” trying again in the broken elvish of the Dalish, greeting curious and open. Solas didn’t dare step closer. Breath caught, heart pounding in his ears

“Ir abelas, da'len.” His voice was not sure, eyes watching every subtle movement, every blink and breath of the boy, so familiar 

“Aneth ara” he greeted in return. The boy stood, curious still, smiling and trusting, too trusting, even in a world of dreams. 

“Elgar?” He smiled, faintly. The boy thinking him yet another spirit, one who may still tolerate his whims, amuse him as the others appeared to have. 

“No, da'len, I am like you.” The boy blinked and giggled “asleep?” He asked 

“Yes, asleep.” 

“Not long.” Confusion must’ve passed over his face, the child laughed again, 

“Nadas– mala taren aravas.” Inevitably, the mind wanders. The words were rough, a direct translation in more broken elvish. As soon as he spoke the words, Solas blinked and the child was gone. Awoken and gone from the fade. 

Solas stood alone in the clearing, heart still hammering, mind dizzy and his own hold on his dreams slipping– those eyes 

He awoke with a start. Sweating and gasping as he sat up, holding his throbbing head in his hands. Her eyes.

It could not be. They had not– it had been– his heart stopped for a moment. The balcony, her laughter, her lips, the light through the windows. Her skin. His greatest moment of weakness. If he had ever believed in them, he would have sworn to those elven gods the Dalish worshiped so faithfully. 

His son

If it was– he was dizzy with a growing anger, fighting the pit in his stomach. 

Sihra

His child, their child, hidden and being raised by those Dalish– oh the foolish Dalish. Speaking of false gods and wearing the marks of slavery as their worship. Looking, not seeing, reaching and not grasping any trace of their ancient loss. Dalish, a shadow bled over thousands of years, a weak remnant of a great people. His people. The true elves.

He would find them. Find him. Dismiss or confirm his suspicions. And then–

What? Then– it couldn’t change anything. Now, after everything, the thousands that depended on him to restore it all, to tear down the world of the humans and restore the elves to their true and rightful world… The hole in his heart from his foolishness, from his love– felt as if it had been blown into a great crater. 

He would know. He must. Then– Then–  
He shoved the thoughts down, getting up. Sleep, he knew, was a stranger now. 

Var lath vir suledin

His heart ached at her echoes. Softly, sadly whispering back into the dark,

“I wish it could, vhenan…”


End file.
